Fatality
by Philosophizes
Summary: A short Fatal Five multi-chapter dealing with the origins and formation of the group. I've planned the whole thing out already so hopefully it will be finished in the near future.
1. Persuasion

**Persuasion**

* * *

><p>Nyuen Chun Ti trudged up the badly-lit stairwell, broad shoulders scraping the damp walls on either side, his awkward burden hampering his movement even further.<p>

There were many days when he couldn't believe he lived in a dump like this, but he had no choice. With a wife and a daughter not yet old enough to go to school, he had to make do with what money he could find.

He banged his leg on the wall as he reached a landing and yelped as one of the many bruises he'd accumulated today ached sharply where he'd hit it.

_Only a few more floors, _he told himself, mentally pushing away the pangs of pain as he dragged his foot up to the next step. _Only a few more floors, and then I can collapse on my couch. Kyu will have tea on, and Lialla will be ecstatic that her Papa's come home and you can cuddle her all you want._

He finally reached his floor and forced himself to walk down the hallway to the tiny apartment he shared with his wife and daughter.

The door was locked.

Nyuen tried to door again, but it wasn't an anomaly. The door was well and truly locked.

"Kyu?" he called. "Kyu?"

He pounded his fist once on the door, but there was still no sound.

Alarmed, he punched in the lock-code.

The door released, revealing a dark, silent front room.

He limped inside and flipped on the lights, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Lialla? Papa's home!"

No response.

More scared than alarmed now, he dropped his bundle on the small table they used for their meals and forced himself to walk into his and Kyu's bedroom.

It was a disaster.

All the clothes had been pulled out of the closet and small chest of drawers, flung about and laying draped over everything. The mattress and the sheets had been pulled off the bed, and the boxes stuffed underneath had been yanked out and dumped over the floor.

Forcing himself to move faster, Nyuen pushed open the door of Lialla's room.

It was more neat and orderly here- but the drawers were all askew, and the tiny closet door was still half-open, clothes hanging out of both. The bed was still intact, but the few toys he had scrounged together money for were gone.

Heart sinking, he went into the bathroom.

The door to the medicine cabinet had been flung open- all the bottles and small containers were gone; and the cabinet under the sink had been rooted through. A chemical cleaner had leaked all over the shoddy flooring, melting parts of it into brownish-gray sludge.

Nyuen turned back into the front room that served as the kitchen, living, and dining rooms.

Something under his bundle on the table caught his eye.

He shoved the package off the table, and the dull clattering sound it made as it hit the floor obscured any mournful noise he might have made.

It was a note; in his wife's handwriting.

_I can't believe the man I knew barely five years ago could fall so hard or so fast. I've taken Lialla and we've gone. Don't come looking for us. I'm taking all the money out of our account- it's not like you're entitled to most of it anyway, you scum._

He sat down heavily, not caring if he missed the chair. He managed to hit his mark, but the flimsy fake wood creaked alarmingly when he collapsed on it.

* * *

><p>Kyu was right.<p>

Five years ago, he'd been a stevedore in the New Metropolis space docks- unloading cargo, hauling boxes and crates and packing them up on transports for the city businesses; or taking things off the transports and to the ships.

He'd dreamed of going to a vocational school, someday, maybe become a plumber or a transport technician.

And then Kyu had shown up at the docks one day and told him she was pregnant.

Immediately, his savings went into the wedding, the doctor's visits, and the apartment. Kyu worked at a resteraunt in a nicer area of town, but had to leave once Lialla had been born.

That was when he'd started taking contracts.

Oh, he'd always done a little illegal work on the side- small things, taking bribes, mostly, because he needed the extra money. He'd joined a small crime syndicate that operated locally just before he met Kyu; working as an enforcer and extortionist in his spare time. It wasn't much, but it helped.

Lialla was born and suddenly there was only one income, and the rent, and all the little things babies needed to stay healthy.

And then the docks had been bought out, and the new firm –richer and larger- had decided to cut costs and use robots instead of easily-broken humans to move things around.

Nyuen needed money. So he took up extortion full-time, and got better and better until he was taking a larger cut of the profits home than anyone besides the boss.

Kyu hadn't said anything, had just gone and gotten a new job once Lialla was old enough to stay quiet if ordered, but he knew she didn't like it.

And then they'd started fighting.

Nyuen hated the fighting. He loved Kyu, he really did; and he loved Lialla, and the Lord knew her life was stressful enough. But he saw Kyu growing more and more distant each day, and she started to try and keep his little daughter away from him.

And then, yesterday, the Dark Circle had come calling.

They'd dug up some old, ancient artifact- it was sitting on his floor right now, where he'd dumped it- and they were looking for someone to contract to do their extortion work. Apparently, he'd been selected.

It was a strange sort of honor, and Nyuen wouldn't have done it- but for hating to come home each night to see Lialla cry herself to sleep from hunger.

So he'd taken the job.

He'd told Kyu about it, naturally- and there had been another fight.

And now she was gone; and his little darling with her.

* * *

><p>Nyuen sat on the chair for a good while, head in his hands; before the tears stopped coming.<p>

Then he leaned over carefully and picked up the bundle that had taken him so much effort to transport.

He stuck it on the table and pulled off the cloth wrappings.

It was an axe- a giant axe, with an edge that looked too sharp to be real- and a skull mask.

He was past caring how silly he'd look. It was a job, and it offered money.

And now, he realized, a way to travel the galaxy, most likely expense-free, and find his wife and daughter.

* * *

><p>He didn't waste any more time thinking about it.<p>

He stood, put on the mask and shouldered the axe.

It was Nyuen Chun Ti who had entered the locked door not even fifteen minutes before, but it was the Persuader who left, leaving the door open behind him.


	2. Touch

**Touch**

* * *

><p>Mano walked the silent streets of his now-dead city, the ravaged world reflected in microcosm.<p>

He studied each and every body carefully, amazed by the variety of features he saw there. Who could have known that people looked so different from each other, to entranced by this discovery to give into the paralyzing fear he'd had before.

Truthfully, when he had finally violated the cardinal rule in his life-

_Do Not Touch!_

-he had spent hours scrutinizing the faces of the person he assumed was his father. It was hard to tell. He hadn't seen him for years, except for his hands when he passed his despised son food through the slit cut into the door.

He looked at his own hands.

One, his left, was perfectly normal. Too thin, perhaps, a relic of a life of near-starvation and constant malnutrition, but still properly formed, properly proportioned.

His right hand, however, was a different story.

It was perpetually surrounded by a flickering magenta energy field, something that had been found, very early in his life, to be deadly.

His mother had died before giving birth to him when his mutated genome kicked in, a month before he was due to be born.

The doctor who had done the emergency birth had lost an arm when he grabbed the unborn child from his dead mother's womb.

The sole nurse who had been courageous enough to grab the newborn when he began to suffocate, and outfit him with an atmosphere-transfusion helmet, only to die in excruciating pain two days later from the melted, infected bodily tissues on her hands, arms, and chest.

Mano could remember his father telling him the story during the long nights when he'd been to angry or hurt to sleep, alone on the floor in his bare, always-locked room. Telling the story once, and then repeating it, over and over and over and over…

He had known from an early age that he was a murderer, though an inadvertent one. That fact did nothing to absolve him of his sins.

He had often listened to his father- there was nothing else to do in his life, as he had long ago memorized every miniscule detail of the tiny room he was confined to.

His father had had a wonderful voice that sounded melodious even when not raised in song; though he had heard many, many times the sound of his father singing. It was always a wonderful experience, something to be filed away in his memory and cherished.

* * *

><p>The first time he could remember being out of his room was earlier today.<p>

He had sat in the room for… he didn't know how long. He had never known how long, but long enough for him to start getting woozy and dizzy from lack of food and water. By that time, his voice had long since passed into uselessness from the time he had spent screaming for his father.

Mano had begun to believe that he had been properly abandoned, this time, that his father had finally decided to do what he should have done years ago and let his abomination of a son die.

But hunger had won out over morals, and he had burned his way through the door and crept, terrified, through the unfamiliar hallways until he'd found the body of his now-dead father lying in what seemed to be the main room.

And then the sun had come out.

Mano had screamed, then, scared and in excruciating pain from the light brighter than anything he could ever remember seeing before. He had retreated to the kitchen and stuffed himself with everything he could find until he was sick before tentatively trying to go out into the main room again.

It was even longer before he would try the front door.

He had hugged the side of the house, eyes wide, trying to make sense of the new world.

He had known of some of it, from what he had overheard in songs and stories and conversations his father had had. But it was all so new.

He had chanced one look at the sky.

The sight had so terrified him- so wide, so open, so _bright!_- that he had thrown himself to the ground and hid his face in the grass.

When he had first stood to venture out into the city, he had carefully avoided looking upwards.

* * *

><p>Mano reached a field, scattered with the bodies of people younger than him, smaller than him.<p>

He didn't know what had happened to kill all these people, but it must have been horrible.

Slumping to the ground, he buried both hands in the brittle grass and watched as the resilient plants withered and melted at his touch. The ground began to crack, and he pulled his hand away quickly.

Suddenly, he began to cry.

He had just wanted to find someone -anyone – to tell him what to do in this strange new world.

But there was no one here, no one still alive.

Mano hurt- hurt all over, which wasn't unusual, but especially in his chest. He wanted to reach in with his destructive hand and rip his heart and lungs, both going much too fast for comfort, out before they burst.

The only thing that stopped him from trying was that he knew from experience that his powers didn't work on himself. He'd tried to die before, but nothing had happened, no matter where he put his hand.

He let himself fall over sideways onto the ground, his killer hand flopped recklessly against the dirt; eyes tightly shut to keep from looking at the horrible empty sky.

Mano heard the sizzle of melting grass once more, and felt the fizzing liquid fall onto his skin.

And he had an idea.

He couldn't kill himself with his own hand- but this planet was dead, all the people were dead. Surely an exploding, melting planet would kill him.

Surely.

Mano sat up and thrust his hand as far into the packed dirt as he could, and pushed.

It felt as though his heart was going to burst, or his lungs, or that his muscles were going to strain out of his skin and his nerves were going to unwind and fry themselves in their own electrical currents. Or maybe his brain would melt before then, or his bones would shatter and he would bleed to death from the inside.

But no matter which would come first.

He could feel his scream of agony, but the roar of the breaking planet deafened him, and blocked out any noise that might have happened at that moment.

Mano's vision faded as the clamor grew louder, and he thankfully drifted into oblivion.

* * *

><p>A time later, he didn't know how long later, he slowly started to feel himself come back to consciousness.<p>

He was dead, and now he was in that vaguely-defined afterlife that was so often talked about.

Vaguely-defined though it was, he knew one thing- it had no more hurt, no more hunger or guilt or pain.

Eagerly, he opened his eyes.

* * *

><p>His shriek echoed inside his helmet, battering the inside of his head. He felt as if the noise were shattering his mind, but the thought slipped away –<em>all<em> thought slipped away- as he stared into the vast, unending, empty void of space.


	3. Burden

**Burden**

* * *

><p>The lights were too bright.<p>

Tharok Nosha tried to turn his head, but his skull was strangely heavy, and the inside seemed much too fuzzy.

The lights swam into focus somewhat and a blurred figure bent over him.

"Mr. Nosha?" the voice asked.

In his head, Tharok pictured a man, lanky, with messy blonde hair and glasses.

"Mr. Nosha, you've suffered a severe accident," the voice went on. "I'm afraid that after ignored the warning shots of the Science Police they were forced to shoot at you in the hopes of knocking you out with a properly-set energy burst. Bu there was a stray shot, and it hit the container of volatile chemicals you were trying to steal."

Tharok closed his eyes. Ah, so _that's _what had happened.

There had been an intensely cold pain, and it had felt like parts of him were melting. He hadn't looked, though- he must have passed out just after that.

"It exploded, as volatile chemicals tend to, and took half your body with it. It was a miracle we managed to get you here in time- you almost died a few times. Gave us quite a scare."

_So,_ Tharok mused, _if I lost half my body, how am I hearing this? Why am I conscious? I should certainly be at least incoherent and hallucinatory from the pain._

A smaller part of his mind shrieked at him. _What? You don't _use _words like 'incoherent' or 'hallucinatory'! Or even 'conscious'! What's _wrong_ with you?_

"But not to worry!" the voice said brightly. "It just so happens that I work here at this hospital! I specialize in genetics and the creation of new biological structures, and I was called in immediately to do what I could for you."

Tharok felt oddly separate from himself- he had the sensation of watching as his mind clicked and whirred its way through dozens of scenarios, all played out perfectly to the second, each with its own list of pros and cons and potential problems.

The small part of his mind that had shrieked at himself earlier sat back in stunned silence, staring, uncomprehendingly, at the new activity in his brain.

This was _insane_.

"I think the EMTs thought I could rebuild your left side using my skills, and normally, for someone who'd been in a crash or fallen out of a window, I could- but you had no skeleton left to work with. So I had to call in some robotics technicians I know and, well…"

Tharok concentrated and suddenly the room came into focus- only on the left side, but it was an improvement.

His original impression of the 'voice' had been a bit off- the man was older than he imagined, and his hair shorter, but besides that he was much the same.

The doctor reached over out of his field of sight and swung a mirror over.

"I'm sorry; this is the best I can do for now-"

Tharok tuned out the rest of the doctor's speech and examined himself closely.

Yes, it could be called a shoddy job- if one was worried about looks. The robotic side of his skull leered grotesquely, and the roughly-styled purple 'eye' bulged out from its metallic setting. What little that was left of his hair stuck out awkwardly from his head.

Wait- here peered into the mirror more- he knew that design.

He tried to speak and let out a strangled croak. He cleared his throat and tried again, voice still thick and raspy from disuse.

"Combat-trainer?"

The doctor smiled, looking relieved.

"Oh_, good! _It seems to have worked! Yes, it's a bare-bones construction, unfortunately- the technicians I know only had enough parts in common to cobble together the left side of one of the army-trainers, but while you're waiting for your hearing we plan to strip it down to the basic structure and start growing biological tissue back over it-"

Tharok considered his options for a split-second and sat up. The doctor stepped back, surprising flicking across his face.

"Oh, my- muscle/ tensile-microfilament coordination already… how impressive! The way the officers who brought you here talked, it made me think you weren't too bright."

"My head feels…strange," he admitted, carefully testing the table he was lying on as though he were simply investigating. He kept his head bowed. "Fuzzy, sort of."

"Oh, that would just be the-"

_Neurons and positron-carrying microfilaments interfacing for the first time._

"-neurons and positron-carrying microfilaments interfacing for the first time."

_How did I _know_ that? What's happening to me?_

"In the few cases of this before the patients have reported some fluctuations in IQ- mostly they've gone up slightly, but don't worry, it should even out in an hour or two, and you'll probably be able to enjoy a few more decimal points in your intelligence level!"

_Oh._That_._

Tharok swung his legs over the edge of the table, noting the new distribution of weight in his body and compensating. He stood.

"Ah, Mr. Nosha, I think you may have misunderstood me somewhere," the doctor said nervously. "You're not allowed to leave the room- you're supposed to stay confined to these quarters until you've been pronounced stable enough to be moved to prison and await trial there."

"I think _you're_ the one who's not too bright, Doctor," Tharok said slowly. "Look at me- you give me half an army-trainer, without any safety controls in the programming, to replace my body? You hook my brain up to a positronic processor?"

In one swift moment, he reached out and grabbed the doctor's shirt with his new clawed appendage, lifting him up off the ground. The man thrashed a little and tried to loosen the pressure on his neck made by the folds of the garment.

"And then you talk about _stripping it all down?_" Tharok continued. "I was a small-time criminal before, too _stupid_ to be trusted with anything but minor heists- but _now?_ Now I can do _anything._"

The doctor tried to look at the metal hunk attached to his front.

Tharok smiled.

"You put guns in me, Doctor. You're _not _taking them out."

He fired.

* * *

><p>The two officers on guard outside the room jumped as the sound of the energy blast forced its way through the reinforced doors.<p>

Both were reaching for their own weapons when the door buckled outward.

The officer on the left had fumbled his sidearm out of the holster by the time the second blow hit the door, tearing it out of its moorings.

Tharok strode out of the doorway, ignoring the warped metal underfoot.

The officer with the gun fired, and the weak energy blast hit the metal surface of Tharok's new body and dissipated.

The last thing the officer saw was the soft hospital lighting shining off his ward's metallic leer.

* * *

><p>The gang bosses were seated around a table in a makeshift warehouse headquarters, arguing over territory rights.<p>

In the midst of debate, none of them noticed the slight noise of the door opening, or the soft sound of the body of an impaled guard dropping to the floor, blood silently staining the concrete floor.

"Laenpuhr," he called, stepping out of the shadows.

One of the gang bosses turned in his seat and jumped slightly in surprise.

"_Nosha?_"

"New and improved," he said, the smile on his lips matching the permanent, skull-like grin of his new metallic half.

Laenpuhr rallied well.

"So… you're ready for a new job?"

"Oh, I _was,_" Tharok said casually. "But then I got to thinking."

There was a snort from the table.

"Yes, _thinking_. I rather surprised myself at how good I am at it now."

There was a slight uncomfortable shifting.

"Here's me now- half organic, half robotic, and fully capable of doing whatever I desire. Why should I take orders from any of _you?_"

Laenpuhr couldn't avoid looking a bit nervous.

"You want partnership?" he asked, licking his suddenly dry lips.

"No," Tharok said. "I want you _gone_."

He stabbed his new left arm forward, and the gripping claws shot through the man's clothes and out through his back.

Tharok pulled his 'hand' out and Laenpuhr slumped down in his chair, the blood slicking the ceramic until he slid down to the floor.

One of the gang leaders higher up in the ranks of criminality stood and gestured formally at the empty chair.

"You've earned it."

Tharok turned.

"No, you misheard me," he said to the room. "I want_ all_ of you gone."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Tharok watched from a dark spot on a higher roof on the next block as the firefighters came to try and stop the inferno of the warehouse from spreading to the rest of the complex; hampered by the Science Police Investigators underfoot, who were trying to get forensic evidence off the dead bodies littering the street.<p>

Tharok smiled to himself and stood, stretching out his right side.

The Investigators and the firefighters would be at odds for the whole night, and the fire would spread- maybe to the whole city, if he was lucky.

He pulled out the things he taken off the murdered gang leaders- contacts, account numbers, building passes, fake identifications… everything he could need to start building his own career.

Why stay here when there was a whole _galaxy_ waiting for a criminal mastermind to come along?


	4. Validation

**Validation**

* * *

><p>The transport vehicle shuddered as the roar echoed over the plains.<p>

The driver reached over and turned up the soundproofing.

The man in the passenger seat adjusted his hat.

"It's a shame, really," he remarked.

The driver leaned forward a bit in an attempt to find the track he was supposed to be following.

"Yeah- stupid tourists who don't know the first thing about mental shielding. You'd think there would be some sort of screening before they let people travel here. It's bad enough having to listen to them without it affecting the animals."

He jerked his thumb towards the back of the transport.

"Case in point."

The man in the hat nodded and looked up at the bulk of Saturn suspended in the sky.

"Yeah- the Titanian Tourism Acts, or something."

Another roar, dulled by the increased soundproofing, shook the cabin.

The man in the hat reached out with his mind and tried to calm the beast they were taking to the preserve.

"Any luck?" the driver asked.

His passenger shook his head ruefully.

"Nothing. I'm not strong enough to get through to him."

The driver shrugged.

"Well, hey- that's why we brought that equipment you're lugging around."

The other man looked down at the black box in his lap.

"Still- I can't believe he'd do that. I mean, he's always been docile enough, and the keeper was always kind to him-"

"Lanothians are touchy, you know that. Back in the day we'd mind-link with them and ride 'em around. Good guards, too- they react to the minds around them, and take on the characteristics of the ones linked to them."

The man in the hat shifted uncomfortably.

"So it's really true that there was somebody twisted in the crowd that day?"

The driver shrugged.

"Not my business to know. Maybe."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the plains passing by below them.

"We there yet?" the man in the hat asked. "I can never tell where the preserve line starts."

The navigation console beeped.

"Now we are."

The passenger reached for the door controls.

"We don't have to go really far in, right? Let's just drop him here. I'll be sorry to see Validus go, but all that business with destroying his enclosure was too much. The Head-Keeper didn't deserve that at all."

* * *

><p>The transport had landed, and both the zoo employees had walked around to the back. The man in the hat snapped his box open and took out a curved metal band and took his hat off; arranging the band carefully around his head like a tiara.<p>

_:You ready?:_ the driver asked.

The other man nodded, and the driver stepped forward to place his hand on the scanner pad; mentally ordering the door to open.

It slid open slowly, the heavy doors taking their time to fold properly into position.

Finally, they rumbled to a stop.

The man with the power amplifier on his head stepped forward cautiously, projecting calm and safety to the behemoth inside.

Validus lumbered slowly out of the transport, grunting lowly in uncertainty.

"Come on, come on," the man said under his breath. "You know me, Validus, there's nothing to be scared of, you're safe, come on…"

Slowly, they established a pattern- the man took one step back, Validus shuffled forward an inch or two. After an excruciatingly long time, the giant Lanothian had moved a fair distance away from the transport.

The man who'd been coaxing him relaxed somewhat, and walked towards the great beast, arms out.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he said encouragingly. "And now you've got all this nice grassland to run around in on the preserve-"

Validus reared up on his back legs and _roared;_ the sound exploding over the plains and making the grass tremble.

* * *

><p>The man fell to the ground, hands clutched over his ears, head ringing in time with his tortured eardrums.<p>

He heard his companion yell with his mind, not his ears.

"I'm okay," he mumbled, trying to send a psychic reassurance. "B'there's s'mething…"

* * *

><p>Validus was reeling from the mind he'd touched- so foreign in content and tone than those of the zookeepers he was used to being around.<p>

It _hurt._

There it was again- a bright glow in a world delineated only by the faint traces of other minds and fleeting images grabbed from those with eyes.

Validus reeled and stumbled sideways, only peripherally aware of a soft wet crunch beneath one hand, and a sudden blank spot in his view of the world.

It wasn't as important as this other mind- the mind that was too hungry and bright and sharp to be friendly.

* * *

><p>The man with the power amplifier on staggered to his feet and stared, eyes slightly glassy, at the bloody mess where his partner had been.<p>

"Ah, Symradel-"

His knees started to give out.

"Let me help you there," someone said.

The man felt someone catch him- but it was a distant sensation, most of his mind being taken up with the intensity of Validus's negative reaction to whatever it was he had sensed.

He tried to force himself to focus and looked up at the person who'd caught him.

"Thank you," he said blearily, then what he was seeing registered in his brain. "Hey, you're-"

Tharok ran him through and took the power amplifier.

"That's _mine_, I believe."

* * *

><p>Tharok placed the power amplifier on his head.<p>

Validus roared again, unable to block out the cyborg's mind.

Tharok turned towards the beast.

"C'mon, you brute," he said, striding forward. "I know how this works. If I keep projecting long enough, you_ have_ to link with me. You _will_ link with me."

For long minutes, the plain shook with Validus's pained stumblings as Tharok kept forcing his mind at the Lanothian.

Finally, the giant settled.

Tharok came closer and regarded the beast, now seemingly docile.

_Smash that transport._

Validus turned and raised his fists, bringing them down with all his power on its roof.

It crumpled instantly.

Tharok smiled.

_Let me up,_ he ordered. _We have things to do._


	5. Empire

**Empire**

* * *

><p>The man crept down the dimly-lit hallway and nervously pushed the door open.<p>

Light spilled into the hall and he slipped inside, blinking in the warm glow of the hidden lights. Glints of gold sparkled in his eyes as he attempted to reconcile himself with the overwhelming color scheme of the room.

"Yes?"

The man spun to face a woman, half-sitting, half-reclining on a pile of green silk pillows set atop a raised section of the floor.

He tried to swallow and licked his lips.

"It has been done," he told her, mind half-consumed with fear. He dropped to the floor and knelt, hoping –as he always did- that not having to look at the woman would clear his head.

He was always wrong.

"The police?" she asked, her voice clear, with only a hint of cruelty.

"The building collapsed on itself an hour ago, m'lady."

"The Scavengers?"

"Still scattered. Your loyal followers are picking them off as we speak."

"The man?"

"I-I took care of him personally, mistress."

He heard the soft rasping of fabric shifting and bit down on the question that had been haunting him all night.

_He was just an old man. He had no family, no one closer than a passing acquaintance. My mother bought groceries from him. He never bothered anyone. Why did she want him killed?_

"It doesn't matter why I wanted him gone," she said; and he couldn't suppress the shutter that ran through him.

No one knew what the lady was. She looked human, but that barely counted for anything in the wider galaxy.

_Titanian? Orandan?_

"No; and no again."

His breath came in a shudder, this time.

He heard her stand.

"The old man is none of your concern, now that he is dead. Tell me what other conquests there are to be made in Tara."

This was the question he had been dreading for weeks, ever since she had instructed him to find the weakness in the local Scavenger sect.

"Th-there is nothing else, mi'lady. You own all of Venegar's capital. There are none who oppose you, no building or vault you have not breached."

The soft sound of her footsteps stopped abruptly.

"Surely there is something."

"There is not, mistress. Tara is fully yours."

"There must be something."

"There is _nothing_, mistress!" he exclaimed, raising his head. "You own it all!"

She whirled to face him.

"What of our enterprises elsewhere? The expeditions off the planet? With the Dark Circle self-destructing, the rest of us are free to take whatever we can!"

"Do you never leave this room?"

The question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

There was a moment of tense silence.

"What?"

His mistress's tone was icy.

He sat staring at her frozen in terror.

"Speak!" she commanded.

"I-I-I- Mistress- The Legion-"

"Who is this Legion?"

"T-The Legion of Superheroes, mistress."

She threw back her head and laughed.

"_Superheroes?_ What a poor excuse!"

"It's true, mi'lady! Children, sanctioned by the United Planets, acting a superheroes, blocking our efforts everywhere!"

"Do you think me a fool?" she snapped. "Superheroes passed into history centuries ago!"

He stood shakily.

"They have returned, mistress."

The woman narrowed her eyes and glared.

"You had better not be lying to me."

He bowed, feeling a little safer.

"I am not, mistress."

"It doesn't really matter, I suppose."

Terror returned to his life. His eyes widened.

"You've still failed," the Emerald Empress said over the sound of the Emerald Eye of Ekron annihilating her minion.

* * *

><p>The Empress fell back into her pillows, rubbing her temples.<p>

How could there be nothing left of Tara to subjugate? Venegar itself was no prize- industry, little tourism, most of the citizens surviving on just this side of poverty.

And why had it been necessary to kill the old man, again?

_He knew too much._

Knew too much about _what?_

She had a quick flash of a grey, rainy sky as if seen from the ground of an alley; but the vision –the memory?- flitted away before she could pin it down.

_About _it_._

_It?_ What is this i-

The thought dissolved before she was more than half-aware of it. She experienced a moment of confusion as she tried to remember what she'd been thinking.

Oh yes. _It._

Whatever that was.

_But it doesn't really matter._

Of course it didn't matter. He was dead. What was the death of one old man?

She sighed.

The minion –what was his name?-

_It doesn't matter._

Oh, who cared- had been telling the truth. There really was something, this Legion, that could stop her.

_I need to know._

She needed to know more about this.

_And these minions are useless._

She needed new underlings. But who? She didn't know anything about the world of Venegar.

Something twisted in her mind as the Emerald Eye drifted discreetly closer.

No, of _course_ she knew! She'd traveled the length of the galaxy, hadn't she?

_When did you do _that_?_ a little voice asked. _You were _born_ here on Venegar, and Aron-_

_Aron?_ This voice sounded so much more real. So _solid_. _You're imagining things. You never knew anyone called Aron. Now, these minions- have them search for their replacements._

The Empress petted the Emerald Eye fondly.

She'd have her underlings steal the Science Police records and comb the news. Surely there were criminals more worthy of her than the scum culled from the depths of Venegar _somewhere_.

The Eye rotated itself to face a door set discreetly into the wall. It opened, the keypad glowing green.

"Get me the Science Police records," she ordered the men waiting within. "Comb the news feeds- we need to find some worthy partners to combat this _Legion_."


	6. Mortality

**Mortality**

* * *

><p>Persuader trudged along the back alleys of Tara.<p>

His job was done.

The Dark Circle had been a good employer for these last ten years, but it was falling apart at the seams.

He'd been watching it happen. The last Dark Leader, Supreme Conqueror, had been Sargo Talnark. He'd been good- too good. He'd died of old age weeks after he had accept the invitation to be the Dark Circle's chief extortionist.

He hadn't died in a duel, or by assassination. He had just dropped, one day.

He hadn't even named a successor.

The Dark Circle had held together under Sargo's second-in-command, but not for very long. The old families started to maneuver amongst themselves, each vying for the top spot. The Dark Circle was fighting itself almost as often as it was sticking to its millennia-long goal of keeping planetary sovereignty.

Extortion became more of a hassle, and started to take up more energy than was able to be spared.

And so, one day, a senior member of the Dark Circle had shown up at his tiny apartment on Rimbor, and given him his last assignment.

Nyuen had made an example of the man yesterday, leaving his mangled body in his shop for the neighbors to discover later, and caught the first shuttle to Venegar, the next planet over.

He was at loose ends, and didn't dare settle down anywhere.

Whoever held the Dark Circle tomorrow, or next week, or five months from now, might decide that he was a liability, left to himself. He had two options: keep moving, or get a new job.

The two were not compatible. If he kept moving, kept looking for his wife and daughter –both still missing- he'd run out of money. He couldn't sneak onto shuttles his whole life, or expect to always be able to terrorize shop keepers and get away with it.

But, if he settled down long enough to get a job, the Dark Circle could find him.

_And I'd never find Kyu and Lialla._

There was someone behind him. He could tell from experience, without having to turn around- he knew what it felt like to have another living person nearby.

He spun, ax half-raised, ready to attack or defend.

"You're in _my_ city, _kehe'khal_," the woman said, using the Rimborian name for a Dark Circle operative.

Nyuen shifted slightly. The woman was tall, yes, but he was taller- she was also dressed more like a streetwalker than a crime boss, but you never really knew.

Information about Venegar and its capital, Tara, started to come together in his mind.

He lowered his ax some. He knew that he looked like he'd relaxed, but the ax could be back up in a second if he chose.

"Not anymore, Empress," he said. "The Dark Circle cut me loose."

The woman all in green smiled at him.

"Did they really? Come looking for a job?"

He reacted to the old, tired test before he'd realized he'd thought about it.

The Atomic Ax came up to deflect a blast from the Emerald Eye.

"You're fast," Empress said when he looked at her dully. She had a manic look in her eye, like she'd just spotted some especially appealing piece of food. "Tell me- what do you know of the Legion of Superheroes?"

* * *

><p>Tharok sat up on his cell cot and listened.<p>

Takron-Galtos was the most secure prison facility the United Planets had. It did not fail. It did not let prisoners escape. It did not leave loopholes.

And yet-

Explosions made an unmistakable sound. It was hard to mistake them for anything else.

_Now, what could _that_ have been? _

The Emerald Empress stood in front of the large, damaged holding cell. The forcefield door was shorted out, but still, the beast wouldn't come any closer.

She frowned, eyebrows coming together.

"_Move_," she ordered, putting the eye behind it. The giant made a little noise and shifted uncomfortably, but didn't take so much as one step closer.

"It's a _Lanothian,_ Empress," Persuader said. His ax was comfortably over his shoulder, and he was wandering around the immediate area, poking in corners. "If it really _has_ bonded, like you said, you'd have to be a _very _powerful Titanian to do anything to it."

She glared at him for a moment.

"And how would you know?" she asked icily.

"I'm not stupid," Nyuen said. "Tell it we can get it to where it belongs."

Empress growled softly to herself and sent a mental picture of Tharok, and a feeling of cooperation.

Validus roared and charged past the Emerald Empress, who flew off after him.

Nyuen finished poking in his corner, and followed.

* * *

><p>Mano sat up.<p>

His cell was shaking. There was no one else in this cell block. What could possibly-

He got up and looked past the forcefield down the hallway, and then dove for the far corner.

The entire front wall was torn off seconds later as a giant _thing_ barreled past.

He waited, curled up in the corner, until the sound of the monster had faded.

Mano uncurled a bit and peeked at what used to be the front wall. Nervously, he crawled over pulverized bits of prison cell and waved a hand through the air where the forcefield had so recently been.

Nothing stopped his hand.

He crept forward a little.

No wardens were coming.

Mano got to his feet and slunk off down the hall, following the path of destruction the monster had left.

* * *

><p>The Emerald Empress drifted to a halt behind Validus and took her first look at Tharok.<p>

He was sitting in the single chair prisoners were allowed, just behind the forcefield, hands clasped in front of his face.

"How nice of you to return my pet."

"_Your_ pet?" the Empress asked. "No, he'll be mine soon."

Tharok raised an eyebrow.

"He takes his orders from _me_. We have a psychic link-"

The Emerald Eye floated upward and began to glow. Validus's brain dome began to glow in the same green hue.

The twin glows pulsed, and Tharok jerked, hissing in pain as he clutched his head.

"_You-!_"

"You can have him, if you join me."

* * *

><p>The Persuader stood idly by while the Empress and Tharok talked.<p>

Soon enough, the wardens would arrive, and his new- associates- would be too busy talking to do anything about it.

He heard running footsteps echoing up the hallway.

Right on time.

Persuader raised his ax just as the wardens came rushing in, and went to work.

The wardens fell quickly, their body armor and guns no match at all for his ax.

Lift, swing, turn-

He found himself facing the last warden and raised his ax one last time-

The warden jerked; and Nyuen looked down.

The man's chest was burned clean through, and a hand was sticking through the hole.

The hand slashed sideways, and the warden fell to the ground, torso half- detached.

Nyuen rested the butt of the Atomic Ax on the ground and took a look at the warden's killer.

He had to be the skinniest, most ridiculous-looking man he'd ever seen.

"And _you_ are?"

"Mano."

* * *

><p>Tharok glared at the Empress with all the hate he could muster. She hadn't let up with her attack on Validus, and every few seconds a new wave of torment would crash through his skull.<p>

"Well? What do you say? Shall I make this thing mine, or-"

"Open the cell!" he said, voice thick with pain.

"Hmmm?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Open the cell and I'll go with you! Just stop it!"

The Eye stopped glowing and Tharok pitched forward out of the chair, his body reacting to the sudden lack of pain.

He hit the floor, half in and half out of the door.

Validus lumbered forward a step and bent over Tharok.

"Back off, you stupid creature," the cyborg muttered, shoving ineffectually at the behemoth's face. He pushed himself to his feet and took a deep breath before looking at the Empress again.

"_Well?_ I assume you have some way to get off this godsforsaken hunk of metal?"

* * *

><p>They left Takron-Galtos half-an-hour later, leaving a trail of destruction behind them.<p>

The Emerald Empress leaned over the back of Tharok's chair.

"Set a course for- oh, make it Ventura. We have a _Legion_ to bait."

Down in the darkness of the engine room, Mano listened to the rumble of the ship's drives and hummed along.


End file.
